Tangled Desires (Undercover Lovers #4) Read Online Tory Baker

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Erotic Tags Authors: Series: Undercover Lovers Series by Tory Baker
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Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 55395 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 277(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
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“Jagger.” Lyric’s voice breaks me out of my daydream, making me realize what I want can’t happen now, especially not here. My parents are within seeing and hearing distance. Then there are the other neighbors who live close. A place like this would be impossible to get her out of her head and make her come on my tongue. At my place, though, it’d be a different story entirely. There’s not a single house or person for acres, and when things go my way, I’ll be doing exactly what we both want.

“You say my name like that again, nothing will get done today.” I take a step closer. She doesn’t back up. In fact, Lyric seems to like that idea. Too bad a horn honking interrupts her craving until it slowly fades away. I could curse whatever person drove by.

“What were you saying?” I watch as she blinks once, twice, and a third time. Yep, she is out of the same haze I was in.

“The barter,” I say. Maybe she’s still thinking about me, too. Her eyes trail the length of my body, which is answer enough.

“Oh, that’s right. Are you going to tell me what it is or keep me guessing?” I shake my head with a chuckle.

“I put your furniture together, you take my cat to the vet for me.” The appointment I made for next week is slap in the middle of the day. It’s hard as hell to get away from work once I’m at a project, to head home, grab the furball, go to the appointment, go back home, drop her off, and then get back on the road. I may as well take a full day off.

“You have a cat?” She looks surprised about that.

“She’s newly acquired. Someone dumped her, and there’s no way I’ll drop her off at a shelter. You know what happens there if they don’t get adopted.” Her shoulders drop, teeth worrying her bottom lip, because she’s well aware of what I’m talking about. The animals either stay there forever, or they’ll be what they call humanely euthanized, and I’d rather not even think about that prospect.

“I’ll take her. Just send me the details. I’m not working right now, and the applications I’ve put in, I haven’t heard a peep from.” Jude told me her parents set her up financially, and I figured she’d wait till the house was completed before getting out there. Apparently, I was wrong to assume so.

“You’ve got yourself a deal.” Shaking hands is out of the question. I do something a whole lot better, moving into the soft curves of her body. My hand cups her cheek, the other grabs her hip, and I graze my lips across hers. At her sharp inhale and her nails digging into my sides, I finally allow myself a small taste. I glide my tongue along the seam of her lips, feeling hers slide against mine with a teasing touch, and goddamn, drawing back is near impossible. Yet I do it. The next time I have my mouth on hers, neither of us will have any fucking doubts that this is happening.

12

LYRIC

“Oh my god, what the hell? How?” I look from the opened box to Jagger. We’re sitting on the floor of my new bedroom, a rug beneath us, which sits on top of gleaming honey-golden wood floors. The walls are a gentle creamy beige that I’ve picked out for the whole house. It was a part of the estimate, and if I wanted extra colors, it would be an added expense. I figured I could do that on my own later on, you know, once I figured out my own style. For the time being, I’ll use rich colors in the way of furniture, bedding, and décor.

The brass headboard and footboard were easy to put together. The mattress, on the other hand, came in one of those vacuum-sealed bags, and when we let the air out, well, it almost took both of us out. We laughed, we talked about our week, we didn’t touch the past, and it felt like old times.

It also confirmed the fact that this man was always meant to be mine. The few times I’d go out and about, meet a guy, and find the relief without worrying about one of my parents is nothing like what I had with Jagger. One day soon, we’re going to have to talk about the past, and it seems right now is the time, whether we like it or not.

“What?” He’s taking my plethora of notebooks I’ve accumulated through the years out of a different box. What he doesn’t know is in between the oldest notebook I have are pressed lilies, the one’s Jagger gave to me; it’s also partly where he got the name only he uses for me. The heavy package Jagger lifted with ease held a wooden hope chest I’ll be storing what he’s taking out in until the rest of the house is finished. That was also the second piece of furniture we had to put together, and the last. The dresser and nightstands came already assembled. There was no way I’d trust myself with that task. I’d have gladly paid all the money in the world. As for the hope chest, well, winging it would have been the name of the game. It would have probably come out wrong, and I’d have to put a blanket or something on top to hide the imperfections I’d no doubt create on my own.


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